


Untold, and barely kept, secrets

by TheEarLofGrey



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Corvo Attano is a good dad, Family Fluff, Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Low Chaos Corvo Attano, Low Chaos Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEarLofGrey/pseuds/TheEarLofGrey
Summary: Corvo and Emily discuss their familial relationship following the publication of his biography. For Low Chaos Week 2017.





	Untold, and barely kept, secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I've been sitting on for a while and have decided to publish. Please leave kudos and comments at the bottom.

2nd Day of the Month of Rain, 1827.  


Corvo couldn’t help but stare at her; his and Jessamine’s sleeping daughter was barely half a day old and she already had him wrapped around her tiny fingers.  
Just like her mother, Corvo thought to himself as he carefully picked her up, nestling her in his arms as she began to coo herself awake. His eyes darting to Jessamine’s sleeping form in slight panic, hoping she to wouldn’t wake up so she could sleep off at least some of her tiredness from her long labour.  
“Ssh, Emily,” he quietened her, “let your mummy rest. I’m right here, ssh my darling little girl, you’re safe, ssh,” he pleaded quietly, placing a finger to his lips for good measure.  
Emily settled into his arms and yawned, opening her eyes; amber eyes that were identical to his. Corvo felt his eyes begin to water as he stared back into them, finding himself coloured in disbelief that he had been so unwilling to hold her mere hours ago when she had first been born.  
He was indeed a father. A father to a little girl who would never want for anything in her life. A little girl who would never know loneliness, fear or hunger. Who would never have to fight to survive. No, her childhood will be filled with only joy and happiness, Corvo swore to himself, pushing away his newest realisation.  
She would have no father. He and Jessamine had discussed this extensively before her birth. He would still be Royal Protector, and could be in Emily’s life (by the stars, he was going to spoil her rotten) and he and Jessamine were still going to be together and love each other (something that, for Corvo at least, was never in doubt).  
But he could not, would not, put Emily’s life in danger, ruin Jessamine’s reputation, her father’s hard fought stability that she was continuing for the Empire.  
He would be an, albeit active, observer in his own daughter’s upbringing.  
But he could still love her, do all in his power to protect her, and he would be okay with that.  
He had to be, after all, he didn’t have to pretend to be disinterested, he could, would, show his love for her.  
And that he was okay with.  


Some 17 years later.  


Corvo was, to put it lightly, seething in anger.  
He had been aware that someone was writing a biography about him. It was hard to miss the furore that this caused amongst the people of Dunwall. And presumably amongst the Empire itself, much to Emily’s persistent amusement at his discomfort.  
But this, writing about his and Jessamine’s relationship; and in such a seeded way was unacceptable. How dare this author suggest that they had simply been an affair of convenience? How dare they suggest that Emily was neither planned or loved? How dare anyone say that they had not been in love?  
Corvo forced himself to calm slightly as his internal rant was interrupted by a knock on the door.  
“Come in,” he called gruffly, begrudgingly accepting his responsibilities.  
The door opened slightly then, and Emily popped her head through, forcing a slight smile as she did so.  
“I’m coming in,” she said before entering the room, “I have two questions,” she said, breathing heavily to steady her resolve, reminding Corvo of Jessamine so suddenly that it ached, dull but obvious in its pain, “Firstly, are you okay?” She asked as she took a few tentative steps forward, her hands already reaching out to reassure him.  
Corvo stared at her, at his and Jessamine’s daughter, and saw her; barely seventeen and still slightly childlike in her features, baby fat still stubbornly clinging to her cheeks, slowly fading away to reveal his cheekbones. Her eyes, so like his in basic appearance that non one else would notice the innate kindness and fierce intelligence that lights them, so like Jessamine’s had been, and yet she was taller than her mother had ever been and Corvo was sure that she still had one or two more growth spurts to go before she was truly done and would probably end up rivalling him if she ever stood up straight like Callista told her too. And yet her features and mannerisms reminded him of Jessamine so much that it ached.  
She would have been so proud of her. She had always been, so keen to reward and cuddle her. Had always been so ready with her praise for every little thing, then again so was he. They had sworn so much to each other and so many of these had related to how Emily was to be raised. Jessamine had always wanted to have Corvo’s childhood as opposed to her own.  
“I’m fine Emily,” he eventually answered, pushing down his grief, suddenly aware that he hadn’t answered her, “don’t you have lessons with Callista?” He asked, mentally going through her schedule. There could be no way it was so late in the day, he had not spent all morning finding fault with this biography.  
“Nice deflection,” she jested, “they finally ended half an hour ago,” Emily paused, biting her lip in slight concern, reminding Corvo not of Jessamine for once but of his mother and sister, “all the court’s talking about your biography...” She started cautiously, slowly sitting down in one of his chairs, “apparently you loved my mother. Is that true?” She averted her gaze that had been pinned on him. To anyone else this would have been a sign of distrust or even distaste but Corvo knew better.  
His darling, sweet, beloved, little girl was scared.  
The author was almost certainly getting a visit from The Masked Felon later.  
Corvo let out a shaky sigh, “Emily, my darling, look at me,” he paused and pushed away the striking similarity as she did, “your mother was, is, my dearest Empress and I have loved her since I was twenty five and will continue to do so until the day I die.” He gently held her face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soft, soothing circles into her cheeks as he has always done to soothe her, “She and you are the most important people I have ever known and the most precious ones in my life. And I have never regretted loving her or being your father. Please, believe me on that.”  
“So you’re my father then? I always sort of knew.” She said in leau of conversation, her eyes still bright from slowly receding but still unshed tears.  
“I am,” Corvo admitted slowly, “I’m sorry you weren’t told sooner. Your mother and I worried that it would put you in danger, make you a target of the court and their schemes. We were going to tell you when you turned eighteen but we-” He broke off then, his words and breath clumping together and knotting in his throat with barely controlled emotion.  
“You two never got the chance,” Emily finished for him, her own voice become smaller briefly, “All the court is saying it was an affair of convenience. Some of the less loyal and more moronic ones are saying that I was -am- an unfortunate product that you two didn’t plan for.” She looked at him, her eyes pinning him with their sudden sharpness, “Are they right?”  
He was going to ask Callista for those names later. He was going to have a busy evening for sure.  
“No,” Corvo answered instantly, his tone becoming briefly sharper in it’s conviction, “if you believe nothing else that I’ve told you then at least believe me on this. Your mother and I loved each other and had planned on getting married when we got older, and when the public scrutiny would have lessened. You are not the unfortunate by-product of a fleeting affair. You are my daughter, Jessamine’s daughter, and you have always been loved. You’re mother loved you with all her heart and so do I.”  
Emily looked at him then and nodded, before moving forward for a hug, “I know, I just wanted to make sure,” she admitted quietly.  
“What was your second question?” Corvo asked.  
“Can I call you father now?” Emily asked, her voice small and yet still so sure of itself, muffled by Corvo’s coat collar, “I promise it will be when we’re alone and only then.” She corrected herself in fear of retribution.  
Corvo couldn’t help but chortle at that, “Emily, you can call me father whenever you like,” he agreed, “you did with your first word anyway in the middle of court when you were barely one. Not to mention that I still have your portrait of me from The Hounds Pit Pub.”  
Emily blushed then, “I’m sure you’re making that up.” She ventured out, smiling properly for the first time since she entered his room.  
“No, you defiantly pointed at me and yelled ‘dada’. I remember it very clearly,” he lied in jest in order to calm her down.  
“Okay, father, you’ve made you’re point,” Emily told him, “I should probably work on damage control though. People seem pretty annoyed their Empress is half Serkonian,” she sighed dramatically, untangling herself from the hug and standing up, “You’ll be by my side, right father?” Emily asked, straightening out her outfit.  
Corvo smiled slightly and straightened up himself, returning to her side, “of course I will always be, my dearest daughter.”


End file.
